Brothers, sisters.
They stood around him in a circle. Toward them, he felt only love. The ship was gone; it was streaming away. He felt a great love for everything; he would have wrapped the world with his heart if he could. At the edge of the causeway, moonlight skittered across the water, making a glowing road for him to travel.
Let me do this. Let me feel it coming out of me. Let me be a man again, before I die.
Carter began to crawl. The virals stepped back, allowing him to pass. There was in their comportment a feeling of respect, as if they were pupils, or soldiers accepting the sword of their enemy. Across the roadway, Carter made his passage. His left hand, reaching out, was the first part of him to touch the sea. The water was cool and welcoming, rich with salt and earth. A billion living things coursed through it; to them he would be joined.
Brothers, sisters, I thank you..
He slipped beneath the surface of the water.
XI
The City of Mirrors
I wear the chain I forged in life.… I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it.
—CHARLES DICKENS, A CHRISTMAS CAROL
78
Dawn at sea.
The Bergensfjord lay at anchor, her great engines at rest. The sky was low, the water blank as stone; far away, a screen of rain fell into the Gulf. Most of the passengers were sleeping on the deck. Their bodies lay in disorder, as if felled all at once. They were a hundred miles from land.
Amy stood at the bow, Peter beside her. Her mind was drifting, refusing to attach to any thought but one. Anthony was gone. She was all that remained.
The little girl’s name was Rebecca. Her mother had died in the attack, her father years ago. Amy’s feeling of her—her body’s weight and heat, the desperate force with which she’d clung to her as they had soared through space—was still palpable. Amy did not think it would ever depart; the sensation had become a part of her, stitched to her bones. It had defined the moment, making the choice for her. It was not only Rebecca that Amy had seen on the pier but her own little-girl self, who had, after all, been just as alone, abandoned by the great heaving engine of the world and in need of saving.
For some time, perhaps ten minutes, neither she nor Peter spoke. Like her, Peter was only half present, staring into space—the pale dawn sky, the sea, limitlessly calm.
It was Amy who broke the silence. “You better go talk to her.”
In the small hours of the night, a decision had been reached. Amy could not go; neither could Alicia. If the survivors were going to make a new life for themselves, all traces of the old terrors needed to be left behind. What mattered now was for others to accept it.
“She didn’t do this, Peter.”
He glanced at her but said nothing.
“Neither did you,” she added.
Another silence. With all her heart she wanted him to believe this, yet she knew it was impossible for him to think otherwise.
“You need to make peace with her, Peter. For both your sakes.”
The sun was rising unremarkably behind the clouds; the sky was devoid of color, its edges blended imperceptibly into the horizon. The rain kept its distance. Michael had assured them that the weather wouldn’t be a problem; he knew how to read these things.
“Well,” Peter said with a sigh, “I suppose I better do this.”
He left her and descended to the crew’s quarters. The air below decks was cooler, smelling of wet metal and rust. Most of Michael’s men were snoring in their racks, using this brief hiatus to rest and prepare themselves for what lay ahead.
Alicia lay on the lower bunk at the far end of the corridor. Peter pulled up a stool and cleared his throat. “So.”
Staring upward, she had yet to look at him. “Say what’s on your mind.”
He wasn’t entirely sure what that was. I’m sorry I tried to strangle you? Or What were you thinking? Perhaps he meant Go to hell.
“I’m here to offer a truce.”
“A truce,” Alicia repeated. “Sounds like Amy’s idea.”
“You tried to kill yourself, Lish.”
“And it would have worked, too, if Michael hadn’t decided to be the hero. I’ve got a bit of a bone to pick with the guy.”
“Did you think the water would change you back?”
“Would it make you feel better if I did?” She blew out a breath. “I’m afraid that’s not an option for me. Fanning was pretty clear on that score. No, I’d have to say that drowning was pretty much the goal.”
“I can’t believe that.”
“Peter, what do you want? If you’re here to pity me, I’m not interested.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“What you mean to say is that you need me.”
He nodded. “That would be fair.”
“And, under the circumstances, it’s best if we bury the hatchet. Comrades, brothers-in-arms, no division within the ranks.”